


Better Know There's Life In Her Yet

by BabylonsFall



Series: Warp & Weft [2]
Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Episode Related, Episode: s01e10 And the Loom of Fate, Gen, Missing Scene, background eve baird/cassandra cillian, background eve baird/jacob stone, check notes about character death warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-23 16:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11406609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabylonsFall/pseuds/BabylonsFall
Summary: Each of the Librarians lost a Guardian, in their own time. None thought they'd see her again. None were prepared to say goodbye again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I should definitely be working on my Leverage fic, but this idea popped up and it's supposed to be short so I figured why not get it out of the way.
> 
> The Major Character Death warning is for Eve, as this fic deals with each of the alternateLiTs relationships with her and her death in their timelines (in a really quick, sketchy way). Her death is never described in detail, but I figured the warning should be up just in case.
> 
> Each chapter will be a separate alternateLibrarian, and Ezekiel and Cassandra's parts are almost done. And overall, the actual timeline of everything is purposely vague and just a bit handwavey. I just wanted to get this out to start. It's a bit rough, but I'm pretty happy with where it's at.
> 
> Fic title is from "Life In Her Yet" by Rag'n'Bone Man.
> 
> Enjoy!

Leaving Oklahoma hadn’t been hard.

Oh, sure, at the time, he’d thought it would be the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. But the promise that little slip of white and gold at his door had made… it had been worth it. If there was even a chance that he wouldn’t have to hide anymore, the he wouldn’t have to watch his father crash and burn and try to drag him down with him, that he could bury himself under _Dr. Stone_ rather than _Jake_ \- and he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself, he was still running, still hiding. But it was a step closer to a future where he wouldn’t, and one he had to take.

Still, the enormity of the Library wasn’t something he could have predicted - not in his wildest dreams.

The line of applicants that day had nearly sent him running back to his truck, back to Oklahoma, with an apology stuck in his throat and his head hanging low. But just looking back at his truck - caked in mud, a few (too many) years too old, rust across the bumpers and a clutch that stuck a little too often… he’d be driving that damn thing until it fell apart most likely. And it struck him then, in that weird way that some things do sometimes. That would be him. Going, going, dulling and sticking, bumping too hard over cracks in the road until everything just gave out, if he went back.

It was way too deep a thought connected to an old rust bucket like that, but it had turned him on his heel and sent him back into the line just the same.

He doesn’t know what about him stuck out that day - he recognized a few people in that line, had read their work, had attempted to follow in their footsteps and who the hell was he to go up beside them - but he got the job.

\---

Adjusting to being the Librarian hadn’t been that hard - or at least, at the time, no harder than leaving Oklahoma.

Overwhelmed. That’s the feeling he remembers the most, those first couple of months. Charlene doesn’t really take to him, that he can tell - he can’t quite figure out if she’s just not impressed with him as a whole, his staunch adherence to his “ma’am"s (what can he say, his momma raised him right dammit), or if she actually does like him and he just can’t read her yet - but Judson is a godsend. As soon as he got over the heart attack that was the talking mirror at least.

And then.

Oh, and then. The Library saw fit to find Eve.

Right out of Intelligence training, she was every inch the refined, dedicated soldier he absolutely wasn’t. She fell into the roll the Library offered her almost as easily as Jacob had - as soon as she got over the whole, you know, magic, thing.

Actually. Thinking back on it, Jacob’s never sure she actually got _over_ the whole magic thing. More like… fit it into her world view next to WMDs, warzones, and civilian life. Something she would deal with if she had to, but generally best to conquer before they became a problem.

It didn’t mean they fell together easily. He was still a rash... well, brat. Too set in his ways, too eager to rush into everything headlong, nevermind if he had the strength or the skill to pull it off. What had worked for him in a bar fight back home, surprisingly, tended to get his ass kicked six ways to Sunday out in a world that was actively trying to kill him. Imagine that.

It took them awhile, adjusting to each other, and each tackling their own demons holding them back. Jacob learned to stop - full out, stop - his own head from jumping right to _amazing_ and look at the _dangerous_ \- and Eve learned to appreciate the _awesome_ instead of looking for the _wrong_.

They worked well.

They worked amazing. Even as magic clawed its way back into the world, bringing with it terrible, terrible things that neither were really equipped to handle - Jacob too lost in static history, Eve too gone on a predictable world - they worked with each other, brought things back down to manageable, and went from there, easy as anything.

When they went from Librarian and Guardian to something more, something made strong by those titles but overwhelming both, was hard to pinpoint. And they were too busy trying not to get eaten, blown up, or stabbed to care much. They worked, and that was all either of them cared about.

\---

Holding Eve…

Holding Eve as she died. That…

That wasn’t the hardest thing he’s ever done. In hindsight.

He hadn’t processed it well. He’d listened to her breathing and spoken quiet, hard promises where his face was buried in her hair, clutching her to his chest. They wouldn’t get away with this. He’d keep the Library safe. They would pay. He made sure she knew that.

He kept his promises.

His Guardian did not die in vain.

Even as he saw the world crumbling around him - slowly, ever so slowly, as though its tether to reality was fraying in a parallel to the shuddering breaths Eve had taken last - he made sure he kept his promises, even as he frayed right along with it.

\---

In that forest, on the Ukrainian border, surrounded by gunfire, shouting, and the ramblings of a confused professor that had somehow managed to avoid getting shot somehow, Jacob Stone did the hardest thing he’d ever done - ever would do - in his life.

There were no promises this time - no intent to make the world burn in his wake. No, just a wide smile, and a silent goodbye masked with a bravado she once saw right through.

“I’m the Librarian.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos on the last chapter! I'm glad people are enjoying this sketchy, quick little fic.
> 
> Enjoy!

If asked - and Charlene had asked. And Judson had asked. And  _ Eve  _ had asked, which, while fair, was still just mean - Ezekiel made sure to have a different response each and every time the question of  _ Why? _ came up. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t being obnoxious, or purposely obtuse, or really even straight up lying - did no one listen? He didn’t lie.

So no, he wasn’t lying when he said it was because he was bored, he thought he could maybe swipe something cool, he had nothing better to do, a library was a good enough place to hide in as any other for awhile, he thought it was something else…

Why did he answer the Library’s invitation? He had no goddamn idea. Couldn’t lie if there wasn’t a truth to be told. But answer it he did. And just like that, a scrawny, sixteen year old thief who’d seen more of the world in his years alone than most people saw in a lifetime was given access to the largest collection of valuable, magical, destructive artifacts in the world.

He’d just about laughed himself hoarse when that actually hit, if only to keep the swelling panic at bay. He was Ezekiel Jones. A library - any library, even  _ The _ Library - was not going to best Ezekiel Jones.

\---

No one had asked if he’d wanted a Guardian. He’s pretty sure no one, really, asked Eve if she wanted to  _ be  _ a Guardian, so much as, it was presented to her, almost as a challenge (keep a Librarian alive, try not to die, save the world), and she wasn’t one to back down, ever.

So. Neither were asked. Neither asked each other.

Ezekiel would like to say they got on great from the get go. But he doesn’t lie.

Eve is everything he doesn’t trust. Stiff, formal,  _ military _ . He spent most of his life avoiding types like her. And, in Eve’s defense, she barely knew how to handle regular, nonmilitary adults, let alone thieving teenagers with a sarcastic streak a mile wide, an open dislike of authority, and the tendency to bolt to whatever happened to look the most fun at that particular moment, danger be damned.

So no, they didn’t get on great, not at first. But they were both stubborn, they were both determined to work at their jobs - Ezekiel might have…  _ redefined _ his job a little bit, to make it more interesting, but still - and neither of them were going anywhere.

And so, little by little, he came to trust the eyes at his back, and she put faith in quick hands and faster feet. He found himself looking to her after a mission, hoping she’d laugh with him instead of shake her head. And if he started listening to her plans more and more, letting her nudge and drive him in a way that meant less running away from fire, more celebrating easy victories at the Library with whatever they’d managed to snap up, well. No one needed to know. Especially not Eve - he didn’t want her to think he was, you know, actually listening.

(He didn’t have her fooled one bit, but she was kind enough to keep it to herself. And if he ducked away from her proud looks and soft smiles sometimes because he just… didn’t know what to do with them, well. She never asked.)

\---

Dulaque didn’t ask. He took. And took. And took.

Until there was nothing left to take. 

And Ezekiel stole it back, pried what was left from withered hands. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.

But Eve wouldn’t have let him wallow, would have kicked his ass right back up. He still had a job to do. He would never be your traditional Librarian - hadn’t been for ten years, why start now? - but he was the Librarian Eve had given her life for, after spending a good decade making sure he was prepared for whatever came at them. He wouldn’t let that dedication, that pride, slip through his fingers.

\---

If anyone asked - the Deadites were definitely not his fault. He wasn’t good with straight magic - never had been, never would be. Blending new magic into technology, finding better minds to work out problems he didn’t have time for, worrying at threads and knots until he could pull just one and bring the whole mess tumbling down - that’s what he was good at. Trying to find a loophole around traditional binding spells and squaring off against a pissed off serial killer ghost? Not in his bag of tricks.

But, no one had asked, and he’d been too focused on trying to, you know,  _ fix it _ to be concerned about much else.

He didn’t have time to ask  _ How? _ or  _ Why?  _ Mostly because his time was better spent answering than asking.

It was so easy to fall back into step with her when she appeared, on the worst day of his life (which, you know, was saying something). Her at his back, him doing his best not to roll his eyes and grin at her tone, listening to the… Librarian - Apparently? Whatever, he could have it - ramble on and somehow, in the whole ten minutes they were there, fix the ghost problem and save the world.

He had the time - mere moments, but a lifetime - to ask what he really wanted. But, he didn’t have to ask, just as she’d never had to explain. Her look said enough. Up to, and including, the look he knew she threw him right as she disappeared.

_ Are you proud of me? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter should be up either tomorrow or Friday (...or, you know, Saturday morning, technically) at the latest
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know I said Friday/Saturday, and in my defense, it was indeed Friday night when I finished this. But then I looked at it again on Saturday aaaand hated everything I wrote for it, so this chapter got completely rewritten! And I'm far happier with it now, so there's that.
> 
> Thank you all for the kudos and comments! Enjoy!

The diagnosis doesn’t take her down a peg. It tries its hardest, of course - enlisting her doctors who can’t quite meet her eye, her parents who look right through instead, well-meaning passersby who see her drowning in numbers and formulas but don’t stop to help because they can’t and they won’t - but it fails. To some degree at least.

Exhausted and clinging to whatever straws she can, Cassandra hauls herself forward, determined to live until she can face Death on her own terms.

She doesn’t think the invitation will pan out, but it’s  _ something _ she can cling to. Someone took a look at her, actually  _ at  _ her, not through, not around, and decided she was worth a chance. So for that at least - the chance to keep moving forward, to carve a new path - she accepts the invitation.

She doesn’t think it will pan out, but it does. Despite all her worries that she does her damnedest to ignore nipping and scratching at the back of her mind, a new, bright path opens up before her eyes, and she greets the Library with a smile full of wonder.

If she slams the door closed behind her a little too hard, no one’s there to stop her.

And she moves forward.

\---

Eve is… complicated. A tangle of stubbornness, pride, intuition, and compassion. She doesn’t understand what goes on in Cassandra’s head, but she tries - oh how she tries.

She just about pulls Cassandra to a stop, trying to figure her out. This strong, competent woman who has no time for weakness or distraction, who rankles at the idea of falling behind and leaving any avenue compromised.

It’s not that they fight. There’s just too much attention on the sentence hanging on Cassandra’s back, dragging them both down with its silent inevitability, and not enough on how much of a wonder it is to finally have someone at her back who will be there when it finally comes crashing down; who won’t leave her to face Death alone if she has any say in the matter.

It takes time, patience, late night conversations, tears lost to memory, and promises blurred and softened by warm smiles and gentle hands for them both to settle, to accept where they’ve landed in this world. A Guardian who will, ultimately, fail, despite her best efforts (and this is Eve Baird. Those efforts will be  _ the  _ best); a Librarian with the potential to wield the Library like none before - yet will barely scratch the surface before she’s gone.

It becomes their fight, their journey, determined to take the world by storm until they just can’t anymore.

They learn together when Eve can smooth out the wrinkles in Cassandra’s mind, and when all she can do is grab her hand and keep her from drowning.

They learn a balance that keeps them in each other’s orbit, without infringing upon their space. Magic is left to Cassandra, the outside world, with its dangers and consequences, to Eve.

When that balance is tilted, their plans erased with one simple moment, they forge a path anew. The sentence erased, Death no longer knocking at their door, Cassandra is poised to carve her way through the world with nothing in her way. What can her Guardian do, but follow, and keep her from drowning in ever deeper, darker waters.

And they move on, not the same, but together all the while.

\---

For all her magic, for all her skill, for all the possibilities she can predict, this never crossed her mind.

Death had been banished from her door - only, it seems, to take up residence in Eve’s. For all Cassandra’s skill with magic - with turning the fabric of reality to her will and power as much as she dares with Eve’s caution as her only temper - she cannot change Life, and she cannot cast away Death when it has already taken hold.

She cannot change Eve’s end, cannot rend her fate like she once did with her own, though her mind keeps running, digs into the farthest reaches it can to try its damnedest to do so. It wasn’t supposed to be like this is what it settles on - Eve was supposed to be the Guardian who would fail with Cassandra’s death, not her own. Never her own.

Though, Cassandra’s not sure Eve ever escaped that sentence. With Eve’s death chipping away at her wonder, at her will, she thinks maybe Dulaque took more than one life that day.

Fate grants her Lamia and revenge on Dulaque in the same stroke. She’s not sure it balances - nothing could ever truly fill the space Eve left after all - but it gives her a new path to follow, even as the Cassandra Eve followed fades and fades and drowns and drowns. The Cassandra Lamia killed for can keep walking, right over water and right over fear.

Without her touchstone, without those eyes at her back, unafraid to pull her back, to keep her from wandering too far, she cannot see where this journey ends, cannot predict its curves and meandering ways.

But she keeps going, into an unknown that’s just a little too dark and too deep.

\---

That Eve can still surprise her, despite Death, despite Fate, really shouldn’t be so surprising. Even if she is not  _ her  _ Eve, she is still  _ Eve _ . Like Fate ever stood a chance against her.

They are too far gone from the path they once walked together; this Eve is still impassioned and beautifully discordant, yet to be worn to a shine of resilience and steady will that will bend the earth before she herself breaks, while Cassandra is too far gone down the rabbit hole as it were; she wouldn’t change what she’s learned, what she’s gained with Lamia at her back.

(Though, the dragons… she wouldn’t mind changing that.)

And yet, seeing Eve, watching her collide and realign with the man she brought with her (of course he’s a Librarian; Fate, it seems, won’t let Eve escape that), reliving, just for a moment from the outside, that delicate balancing act of unfettered brilliance meeting grounding temperament and whittling it all down into a plan to move forward…

Cassandra can’t help but go along, despite her instinct to escape, to forge a new path once again for who she can, wherever she can.

A single moment of clarity then - Eve was never supposed to die for her. Cassandra still can’t twist Fate - true Fate - but, if it has deigned to give her a chance to set things right…

She follows her Guardian and opens one more path; the last thing she sees is her Guardian ( _ hers  _ now, always hers, whatever timeline, whatever end), and she’ll take that, and take it gladly, as it was supposed to be.

And Eve moves forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
